It is officially Halloween season. You know how you have to wait until after Thanksgiving before you're allowed to start thinking about Christmas without any guilt? I feel that way all September long about October 31st. What's the point of September anyway? Yay, school starts. That's a fantastic reason to party like it's 1999 but pales to the frolicking I plan for the 10th month of the year.


After holding in my exuberance for this holiday since... well mid summer, I can finally let loose the creepy concoctions I've had stored up in my brain without any grief from all you hot weather lovers about my wishing summer would end already. Like the time I had my children convinced I was slowly turning into someone else after drinking the "potion" I cooked up during one of our parties. It's amazing how convincing a different hairdo can be.

While listening to utterly frightful music that started to give even me the heebie-jeebies, (no one can convince me they can listen to music from The Omen without cautiously looking behind them all night long) we emptied out the orange and black rubbermaid storage boxes tonight and filled the living room with ghastly decorations.
Bats hanging from the ceiling fan, skulls on the mantle, an electronic spider that crawls up it's own web... what a noble holiday that celebrates blood and skinless body parts.
But I would never take advantage of the fear that can easily be induced upon my own small and impressionable kids. I most certainly did not hide out in the basement wearing a black (Scream) mask and my black college graduation robe sweating and waiting for my kids to come find me only to have the be-jiggers scared out of them when I jump out and shriek at them while waving my arms wildly like a madman. Instead, they took longer than I'd like to admit to realize I was even gone before I gave up, went back upstairs to them and managed to modestly scare my youngest enough to make her jump a little.

While she laughed at me.

I'm pathetic.